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Snaking up a body of offbeat crooked hobbles
Black leather encases her in obsequious devotion
And a cowboy hat compresses her body into a puddle
That seeps throughout the room, wetting the feet of kinetic children
Each strike of her sanded wood cane on the floor is a statement
An attack on the world outside
In old age and hurt body and prejudice
The archetypal woman does not hide
Bouncing gradients of vibrance cocoon a stubborn ember
A colored cadence that follows successive cascades
Brown cane black leather brown skin white eyes
Her footsteps have their own weather
Defiance incarnate
Fuck you to the system
"I'll get me myself"
The strata, the order, make it weak at the base
Take up your wood chisel, spray them with mace
Collapse this whole schema, strike it right in the face
Flying colors breaking walls and shooting needles into history
Sewing a new past of ripped fabric
This archetypal woman redefined humanity right then and there
Pull from all corners of the globe and big ideas
Condense them to yourself and mosaic, are you not?
With her wood cane and cowboy hat — no stop
Forget the old world
Bitch I am aloft
There was never a Greece or a Capetian flag
a modern black subculture, some network of enclaves in enclaves in enclaves
Rising up and converging and reaching around one another to pen some sharp dot at the top
For you to look at and say "Ah"
islamic golden age and great tang china
songtsen gampo and inca and maya
Vaporized into medium
Into that cold, fresh water of secular salvation you know so well
That microchip naked to the eye
Delivered to Void.
Ryan Conti